Prologue

The man stands in the middle of the doorway, looking back on the old abode he once lived in with an apologetic sigh. His finger swirls over the walls in an attempt to read any difference over the past several years. Eyes landing on the bare fireplace, he remembers the way she once sat with a pen and paper in hand. Recurring emotions of sadness, nostalgia, and a faint tinge of joy enhanced by the memory of her love are aroused.

The long and delicate fingers play with the hat placed over his chest. Viewing the emptiness of the house, in his mind he still visualizes the manner in which their old furniture was once arranged. A faint shake to the head clears such thoughts and he clears his throat in order to focus on the current task at hand.

He makes his way to the garden outside still in awed observance as increased memories surge. Has he pushed away the past with all the worries and troubles from the present?

"But I remember you, and my peace is lost."

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Once in front of the peach tree, he slowly kneels, burying long stalks of fingers into the dirt. Feeling the earthy soil, he grunts. He pulls out a small Ziploc bag and smoothes the edges in an attempt to remove the creases. Elderly as he is, he begins to cough, but tightens the hold to his handmade scarf given to him by his wife. After taking a quick glance of his wristwatch, he scoops up bits of soil, dropping it into the bag with a faint smile.

Although he does not find the item he has been looking for, he does not give any second thoughts. A simple wave of his hand represents the temporary dismissal of a new rising dilemma. The current task, he feels, is to return as early as possible without straying even for a mere minute.

In a quick saunter past the garden, he makes short observations in which he holds brief visits to the past. Nourished with rich memories, the old man’s lips twitch into a faint grin as he releases some of the anguish through amusement. He makes his way to the entrance and slips on his shoes hurriedly. Trembling fingers slide the door closed as he looks beyond the gated backyard, blinded by the golden rays of the sun.

Her smile remains forever imprinted in his heart, mind, and soul.

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Well, here is my contest entry. Please support me all the way as I write this. I suggest you read the prologue to begin to comprehend this short tale of mine.

//Edit Jul.14.2011// I'm taking this off as a contest entry, because I really want to perfect this, and I'd rather take my time than barely making it into the contest and not the way I want it.